Songs That Might Have Been
by sparkling-diamond
Summary: lost songs and scenes from the moulin rouge...or, the deflowering of a fan-fic virgin


SONGS THAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN  
  
Backstage in her dressing room, Satine stared into the mirror listening to the sounds of the Moulin Rouge from several rooms away. She was ready for tonight's performance, a performance with the potential to be the most important of her career. If the duke was there (and she knew he would be) and liked what he saw (and she thought he would), his investment would mean that after four long years as a can-can dancer, she would be a true star. "A real actress," she whispered to herself. It was that knowledge that would propel her through the evening.  
  
The girls were beginning their opening number now. Satine heard the rustle of their flying skirts, accompanying their voices as they moved into the crowd of salivating men. "The moment you walked in the room," they sang, "I could see you were a man of distinction-a real big spender!" Then the bump and grind, and "Good looking, so refined, wouldn't you love to know what's going on in my mind?" Satine laughed ruefully. She knew by now that the Moulin Rouge's customers hardly cared what the girls crooned as long as their crinolines ended up over their heads.  
  
"Well the men come in these places, and the men are all the same," she sang to her reflection, reminding herself how she always survived the long nights of groping patrons.  
  
"You don't look at their faces, and you don't ask their names  
  
You don't think of them as human, you don't think of them at all  
  
You keep your mind on the money, keeping your eyes on the wall." Satine stood and began to rehearse the steps she'd be performing in less than an hour. "I'm your private dancer," she vocalized to an imaginary duke, tossing her hair. "A dancer for money, I'll do what you want me to do.  
  
I'm your private dancer, a dancer for money  
  
Any old music will do."  
  
She had dreams, she remined herself, and that was why she continued to play this role. There was no other way, and there never had been. Ever since she stumbled into Harold Zidler, young and hungry for whatever fame he could endow her with, Satine had grasped her dreams tightly. And she was so very close to achieving them once and for all tonight.  
  
"Deutschmarks or dollars, diamonds will do nicely, thank you  
  
Let me loosen up your collar--  
  
Tell me do you wanna see me do the shimmy again?" Satine studied herself again in the mirror and smiled. Whatever lay ahead for her in the hours ahead, she was prepared.  
  
* * * * * *  
  
Satine pulled away from the boy standing before her, pulse racing all the while. She wanted, above all, to give in to his song, to alllow herself to taste a kiss inspired by love and not money. This boy- Christian- could offer her nothing of what Harold's investors might. But he could offer her respite from those endless nights at the Moulin Rouge, catering to sneering patrons and sweaty dukes. And more than anything, what she craved now was respite.  
  
She sighed into his ear. "You're gonna be bad for business. I can tell."  
  
He kissed her hungrily, and she responded, enjoying his blend of naivete and passion. As their lips met again and again, Satine made up her mind, and taking his hand, she led him to the bed across the room.  
  
"Don't you worry about what's on your mind," she sang. "I'm in no hurry, I can take my time."  
  
"Im going red and my tongue's getting tied," Christian stammered. "I'm off my head and my mouth's getting dry, I'm high, but I'll try, try, try, oh my."  
  
"Let's spend the night together," Satine continued. "Now I need you more than ever, let's spend the night together now." She reached the bed and pulled Christian down towards her. He went on with the song, gaining confidence all the while.  
  
"I feel so strong that I can't disguise," he sang. (Satine: "Let's spend the night together.") "But I just can't apologize."  
  
"Let's spend the night together," she moaned as Christian fumbled for her corset. "Don't hang me up and don't let me down. ("I won't let you down," he harmonized.) We could have fun just fooling around, around, and around."  
  
"Oh my, my," Christian sang reverently.  
  
"Let's spend the night together, now I need you more than ever, let's spend the night together; let's spend the night together, now I need you more than ever." She noticed that he was growing a bit nervous, obviously inexperienced. Satine didn't mind, far from it. She delighted in the opportunity to teach him. "You know I'm smiling, baby," she reassured Christian. "You need some guiding, baby-"  
  
"I'm just deciding, baby, now-"  
  
"I need you more than ever, let's spend the night together now!" Satine was getting breathless. He buried his face in her neck. She'd never felt this way about anyone, not any customer had caused her to lose control like this. "This doesn't happen to me every day, oh my, let's spend the night together. No excuses offered anyway, oh my, let's spend the night together." Satine ran her hands along his back, by now shirtless. "I'll satisfy your every need, and now I know you will satisfy me."  
  
"Oh my, my, my, my, my, let's spend the night together," Christian panted. "Now I need you more than ever, let's spend the night together now!"  
  
Satine closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensation of Christian against her. Somewhere, her mind was haunted by thoughts of the future. Any romance was deeply dangerous to both her career and to Harold. She knew that any infatuation with this beautiful, sweet boy could be her downfall. But she allowed those drifting thoughts to fade away before they could spoil her pleasure. At the very least, she and Christian had that night.  
  
* * * * * *  
  
Christian found himself that afternoon in Toulouse's kitchen, needing to be around someone, anyone to distract his mind from Satine. She had been forced by Harold to spend the afternoon in the Duke's company, and while she promised him that nothing serious would transpire until opening night, his nerves would be on edge until she returned. Toulouse sensed instantly that something was off.  
  
"Cwistian, Cwistian, where is the Sparkwing Diamond?" the dwarf asked, knowing that only Satine could cause Christian to be in such a mood..  
  
"She's with the duke, Toulouse," the writer snapped curtly.  
  
"Cwistian, is she worth it? Is she reawwy worth all this pain?"  
  
Christian looked up, startled. Here was a man who cared for nothing so much as the Bohemian ideals of beauty, truth, freedom, and love, questioning whether his love for Satine was worth it. Meeting Toulouse's gaze, he replied firmly. "She is, Toulouse. She is worth everything and anything you could ever imagine.  
  
She's got a smile, that it seems to me,  
  
Reminds me of childhood memories, where everything was as fresh as the bright blue sky," he sang. Toulouse smiled, nodding his head, clearly pleased at this response. Christian continued.  
  
"Now and then, when I see her face, it takes me away to that special place  
  
And if I stare too long, I'll probably break down and cry  
  
Whoa-whoa-whoa, sweet child of mine  
  
Whoa-oh-oh-OH! Sweet love of mine!" Now his mind was alive, as he pictured Satine in all her glory. He saw the toss of her red hair, heard the unforced laugh that sometimes sprang forth in his presence-so different from the artificial giggle that she sported around the duke--, smelled the jasmine musk that she wore and now clung to his sheets.  
  
"She's got eyes of the bluest skies, that if they thought of rain  
  
I'd hate to look into those eyes and see an ounce of pain  
  
Her hair reminds me of a warm safe place where, as a child, I'd hide  
  
And pray for the thunder and the rain to quietly pass me by." Glancing towards the doorway, Christian saw Satine standing there, a smile on her delicious lips. He ran to her and held her, muttering into her ear: "Where do we go? Where do we go now?"  
  
She pulled away, cocking an eyebrow, and said in her best smouldering temptress voice, "How about down to your room?" Giggling, arms around each other, Christian and Satine left Toulouse shaking his head and humming the writer's tune to himself as he began to prepare supper.  
  
* * * * * *  
  
She had done it, she told herself, feeling strangely numb and distant. She had followed Harold's wishes and convinced Christian that she no longer loved him. Hours from now, she would be property of the duke. He could do to her what he liked, and for her part, she was helpless to resist. The only thought Satine consoled herself with was the death sentence the doctor had given her. Her misery as the duke's mistress would last only so long; even death was preferable to life without her Christian. And she had saved him, Satine told herself, fighting back images of his beautiful face contorted with pain. He would live a long life. For that, at least, her actions were worth their toll.  
  
Back in her room at the Moulin Rouge, she felt herself breathless and winded. She needed to rest before opening night, her performance would require some amount of strength. But sleep refused to come. Satine tossed and turned, trying to escape thoughts of Christian, failing every time.  
  
"Lying in my bed I hear the clock tick, and think of you  
  
Caught up in circles, confusion is nothing new," she sang to herself softly.  
  
"Flashback: warm nights, now left behind  
  
Suitcases of memories, time after-" she caught her breath, remembering how lost Christian had looked, how confused.  
  
"Sometimes you'll picture me, I'm walking too far ahead  
  
You're calling to me, I can't hear what you've said.  
  
Then you say, go slow, I fall behind.  
  
The second hand unwinds." But he knew, surely, that she would never forget him. Some part of him must know that she still loved him. Please, Christian, please, don't fight for me, she thought. Just carry my love with you. And then she knew that all she really wanted was for him to come to her one last time. Surely they could flee to where the duke would never find them. Even one month with him, even if that's all she had left-Satine climbed out of her bed. She ran to the room's large glass pane, searching for the place where Christian and she had spent so many nights free of fear. And there he was, tear-stained and worn looking, his eyes aimed towards her where she stood. If only she could tell him, but all she could do was chant the words to herself.  
  
"If you're lost you can look, and you will find me, time after time  
  
If you fall I will catch you, I'll be waiting, time after time  
  
After my picture fades and darkness has turned to gray  
  
Watching through windows, you're wondering if I'm okay  
  
Secrets stolen from deep inside  
  
The drum beats out of time-" The door burst open and Satine whirled around to face Marie.  
  
"It's time, child," the woman said, not unkindly, a sequined costume glittering in her arms. "Let's get you dressed for the show. You've got a big night ahead of you."  
  
As Satine let Marie pull the robe from her shoulders and dust them with powder, she stole one last glance towards the window where Christian stood. She straightened her body and practiced her smile, then murmured three words to herself. "Time after time . time after time."  
  
* * * * * *  
  
Christian felt daylight intruding into his sleep, the first sleep he'd gotten in the week after Satine's last breaths. He had been mad for most of the seven days, drunk on Toulouse's absinthe and his own biting misery. He remembered little of what had transpired, yet he remembered the night of Spectacular, Spectacular in clear, painful detail. His Satine was gone, and now he barely felt the icy wind reach through the room's broken window pane. He needed to leave this bed, a bed that bore too many memories for his taste. Stumbling, clumsy, he made his way down the stars and out into the street. The Moulin Rouge was dimly lit, and he shivered a little. Somewhere, Christian thought, she is listening.  
  
"Lay a whisper on my pillow, leave the winter on the ground  
  
I woke up lonely, there's air of silence in the bedroom and all around," he sang hoarsely, finding his voice after days of incoherent sobs.  
  
"Touch me now, I close my eyes and dream away,  
  
It must have been love but it's over now," he felt himself choke on tears as he traveled across the dance floor where he'd first seen her, on a night that seemed decades ago today. It was empty now, except for a few barely clad girls and roving men. Without consciously knowing it, Christian found his feet carrying him to the elephant.  
  
"It must have been good but I lost it somehow  
  
It must have been love but it's over now." By now he had reached the entrance, and was crying in earnest. His tears blurred the vision, but he could make out the chamber where his song had won her love. Christian let the early memories come and go. He saw her in his arms, enraptured by a peniless poet.  
  
"From the moment we touched 'til the time had run out  
  
Make-believing we're together, that I'm sheltered by your heart  
  
But in and outside I've turned to water, like a teardrop in your palm  
  
And it's a hard winter day I dream away." He drew in a deep breath. The air in the elephant still carried her scent. Satine would not want him to be defeated by his sorrow, he knew. Christian felt her with him even now, and he remembered her last words. It was all he could give her. He had been unable to save her, so he would use his own gift: his words. And he would tell their story. As he pushed his way back passed the can-can girls, back through the chilled streets, back to his ramshackle room, he finished his song.  
  
"It must have been love but it's over now  
  
It was all that I wanted, now I'm living without  
  
It must have been love but it's over now  
  
It's where the water flows, it's where the wind blows."  
  
Yes, he would have to live without love now. But at least he had the memory of what it was like, for a gorgeous brief time, to have it. 


End file.
